Two Geniuses Meet
by YourGreatestDream
Summary: The Eleventh Doctor, Amy and Rory have landed in a parallel universe. But which one? In a church graveyard two insane geniuses meet, and an incredible adventure begins as the Doctor and his companions try to find their way back to their own universe.
1. Chapter 1: The Box From the Sky

**Two Geniuses Meet**

_**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Doctor Who or Sherlock**_

* * *

_Chapter 1: The Box From the Sky_

* * *

"Alright! Where should we go next? Anywhere, anytime, as long as it's amazing." The Doctor scrambled around his TARDIS, pulling knobs and twisting polarities.

"I want to relax." Amy rained on his party. "Just a day. One day! To ourselves without disaster following us."

"Yeah!" Rory spoke up. "I mean, we just escaped certain death from a collapsing spaceship, all fire and broken pipes and running for our lives. Can't we just take a breather?"

"Oh, you two are _fine_." The Doctor pouts, flinging both his arms their way in a single dismissive gesture. "We hardly got a scratch on us."

A screeching metallic sound pierced the room. The Doctor looked up, turning his head to look at the monitor.

"Oh that's not good." He said quietly.

"What was that?" Amy spoke in her worried tone.

"What's not good?" Rory demanded to know.

"Not good...very not good." The Doctor raced around the mechanic central pod in a flurry of movement. The TARDIS began to shake and smoke, alarms blaring in red lights. "We must have been passing between two suns stuck in a binary orbit, and the infinite loop interfered with the polarity of our coordinate grid. It's pulling us somewhere."

"Where!" Both Amy and Rory shouted over the alarms, as they hung onto the control module.

The Doctor laughed, "I don't know!"

Rory and Amy looked at each other in shared fear in anticipation.

"Hold on, Ponds!"

* * *

"Sherlock, you might want to take a look at this." John stood next to the sunny window with a cup of tea in one hand, and the daily paper in the other.

"Don't care." Sherlock sat nonchalantly in his clean-cut sofa, tuning the strings of his violin. "It's sure to be something the populous finds intriguing like a dead actor or the Queen's missing cat. Boooring."

John quickly looked at Sherlock with narrow eyes, but relented to his partner's impenetrable depressing mood. "It says here that two nights ago at 11:36pm, an unidentified object fell from the sky in Petersburg-"

"Say that again."

"W-what?" John stumbled, confused.

Sherlock gave him an impatient stare. "Watson, you know I hate repeating myself."

"Uh, right... An unidentified object fell from the sky-"

"Alright, go on." Sherlock waved his hand at John, and went back to tuning the instrument.

John rolled his eyes before continuing. "Witnesses describe a box, in the night sky, falling to earth and covered in flames. On the same night, four people were reported missing around Saint Morgans Church. The location the large box fell, was right next to the church. Further investigation impeded by problems accessing warrant to search the grounds.

"Do you think the missing people and the box are connected?" John questioned after reading the column.

Sherlock was quiet for two minutes, his hands held up, fingers pressed together just over his lips in concentration. Finally he looked up. "Sounds interesting. Grab your jacket, Watson. Something nice, if you would- we're going to church."

* * *

Amy stumbled out of the police box, coughing profusely from the smoke inside that followed her in billowing white wisps. Raising her head from the crook of her arm, she could just make out the night sky and crooked trees in the distance through stinging watery eyes. She heard as Rory exited the death trap behind her, his choking barely containable.

"Where are we?" Rory gasped once the worst subsided.

Clearing her throat, Amy rubbed her right sleeve over her eyes to see better. "I think we're on Earth, but I can't be sure..."

"Of course it's Earth!" Exploding from the blue box, the Doctor waved away the smoke around him like it was an annoying fly buzzing around his head. "Question is, are we even in the same universe?"

"_You_ are not making any sense. Again." Rory said from were he sat on the grass.

"The pull of a binary solar system looks like what the infinity sign does. A figure eight. So, when the TARDIS flew through the very center of it, we were thrown into the magnetic grip of an infinite loop. Then, we were spat out here. Earth. But is it the same Earth?" The Doctor crouched down and plucked a few strands of grass to sniff.

"There are other Earths?" Rory asked, perturbed.

"That...that's insane. Why would it not be our Earth?" Amy had started pacing back and forth from Rory to a rock.

"Because infinite loops unravel the range of impossibilities." The Doctor looked at Amy, eyes wide and hoping for her to understand. To come up with the revelation herself. "What's one thing I've always said was impossible?"

Amy thought hard. "Um, oh!" She snapped her fingers, an idea on the tip of her tongue. "Oh, is it that we can't cross our own time streams? Two Amy's?"

"Don't remind me." Rory muttered.

"Not quite, but good guess." The Doctor said, satisfied at the attempt. "Accessing parallel worlds."

"So, you're saying we're in a parallel universe? Another Earth, but not our own?" Rory stood up, facing the Doctor, his eyes glowing with held back up-rage.

"Yes. Isn't it amazing?!" The Doctor's face lit up in glee.

"Any how are we supposed to get back?" Amy stopped pacing and stood in front of the rock, facing the childish man with the bow-tie. "You know, to _our universe!_"

The Doctor leaned back a bit and fiddled with his hands, Amy noticed, like he does whenever he gets nervous or stuck. "Um, that's a good point, um... we can't."

"WHAT?"

"Can't you just fly the TARDIS into another binary solar something and take us back?" Rory protests.

"A binary solar system's magnetic infinite polarity loop is set to random. Even if we did the exact same thing we did earlier, there's no telling where or when or in what universe we may end up in." The Doctor is pacing now, ruffling a hand through his hair, the other making gestures in the air.

"So we're stuck here?" Rory fell back onto the ground. "That's great. That's just great."

"You must have something up your sleeve! There must be something you can do!" Amy yelled at the tall man. "You can't just give up."

"I never said anything about giving up. I have an idea, but we're going to need the TARDIS... which is repairing itself at the moment." The Doctor ducked as a spare piece of the control panel flew out of the door, a line of smoke trailing behind it. "In the meantime, why don't we explore? Oh, and I wouldn't sit on that stone, miss Pond."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Well, nothing. It's doing a perfectly good job at what it does. Labeling the recently deceased that lies underneath it."

Both Amy and Rory jumped up; Amy turning around a full 180 degrees, looking back at the tombstone she was sitting on seconds before with wide eyes.

"We're in a graveyard." Her voice was small, but still assertive.

"Next to a church." Rory added.

"Good! Exploring our surroundings now. Very good start. I'd go so far as to add that the air tastes like the early twenty-first century of England."

"Okay...I'm not even gonna bother questioning that." Rory said

"Shh!" Amy put a finger to her lips insistently. "I hear people coming."

The three scrambled to hide themselves: Rory and Amy behind a five foot tall hedged bush, the Doctor behind a large tombstone.

"Why are we even hiding?" Rory whispered to Amy.

"Here they come!" She replied, pushing Rory's head back down.

Two voices carried across the graveyard to where they sat.

"So we're just going to break and enter into a church in the evening dusk?" The first voice, a male medium but airy falsetto, spoke up.

"It's not breaking and entering. It's simply entering." The second voice was male also, but was deeper and more refined.

"Trespassing, more like it. Why not get the warrant like the police are doing? That's legal, more effective, and we're less likely to be shot that way."

"John, this is a church. They're more likely to welcome us in than they are to shoot us. And the warrant is a waist of time. If it has the police held up, then we can get a first look at this 'box from the sky'."

Rory held back Amy's gasp, his right hand covering her mouth gently. The TARDIS was suppose to have a shield that divided other people's perception so they didn't look at it twice, or find interest in it. _The perception filter must have been damaged on the trip here._

"Why is this so important? Sherlock, you haven't taken a case in a whole two weeks now. Now things fall from the sky and you're interested."

"I was bored, Watson." The two men come into view, and it was Amy's turn to cover Rory's gasp. Their names sparked something and she recalled it: Sherlock Holmes. _But he's a fiction character! He's not real, and he's definitely not from 21st century England. _

The taller man had dark brown, if not black hair, sitting atop his head in unruly curls. Hidden underneath some of the curly locks were surprisingly big ears. His face was long with cheekbones that stood out prominently and sat high on his cheeks below piercing olive grey eyes. A straight, long nose went down to a wide stretch between the tip of his nose and upper lip. Full lips too, that were frozen in an expression of careful observation.

The shorter man had very blonde hair, parted to one side. His face somehow reminded Rory of the hobbits in Lord of the Rings. Where Sherlock's face was long, Watson's face was short and rather pudgy. He had the kind of cheeks Amy thought that an aunt would pinch the daylights out of. His eyes were auburn gold, and portrayed his uncertainty at strolling in a graveyard at night.

"There it is. The box from the sky." The man called John said.

The taller man held out an arm in front of John to stop him in his tracks. "I do believe we are no longer alone, John."

Silence covered the graveyard like a cold blanket. None of the three wanted to come forward, as they were hesitant as to what would happen if they were found.

"Come out. It'll be much easier on yourselves if you step forward now. You might just stop breathing so quickly."

Amy threw Rory a nasty look. He held his hands up in defense, but swallowed in admittance. Both froze up after hearing a familiar voice answer back.

"Very well put! Why don't we all step forward? Come on Amy, Rory. Let's get to know the locals." The Doctor stepped out from behind the gravestone with a swagger.

"Great." Rory bobbed his head up and down, his mouth pressed tightly. If his eyes weren't so puppy-like and round, he might actually have looked intimidatingly peeved. "Just, perfect."

Amy ignored him and stood up from behind the hedge. She moved out from behind the hedge and went to stand near the Doctor. Two strange sets of eyes stared at her, and she simply held up her hand and waved. "Hello."

Rory stood up and followed closely behind her.

"Who are you?" John asked the three time travelers.

"We're simple tourists." Amy lied. Rory moved closer to her, uncertain of the situation.

"Really? Tourists?" John repeated. "In a graveyard at the fall of evening? 'Cause that always happens."

"Then why not have your detective guess who we are?" The Doctor smiled. "All I'll tell you is our names, and your partner figures out the rest."

"Is that a challenge?" Sherlock's eyebrow rose, shattering his stoic expression.

"Yup. I challenge you, Holmes...to figure out who exactly we are. Names, right! I'm the Doctor, this is Rory Williams and Amelia Pond."

After a short pause, Sherlock went to work immediately. He pointed to the girl.

"Amelia Pond, Scottish girl with a thing for short skirts- most likely used to wearing outfits due to the way you practically show off your legs - ring on your left hand shows you're married, to Rory Williams here. You're a _nurse_ as I see it. Oh don't look surprised, you have it nearly written on your face. Quite literally: wrinkles below the eyes show lack of sleep, and by your age barely out of college so that must be from past exams. On another note you're a romantic, by the way you look at the girl- and experienced with fighting from what I can see from your defensive stance... By your stance it looks to be something other than fencing. Perhaps older? Doesn't matter... However-"

Sherlock turned to the Doctor and continued his fast deductions at a slower rate before starting up faster again.

"An alien is far more interesting... How old are you? Must be older than you look, the expression of caution shows years of experience... and you have old eyes... although your previous attitude was one of a child's. You have a unique fondness for random things like that red bow-tie on your neck that you keep nice and neat. Not a wrinkle but faded in color, showing much use- you might have worn it every day. This proves your lack in fashion trend or care for blending in with the changing times, one of the main contributing factors in London's social system. That, and the alien technology in your back pocket that just so happens to look like a pen - all points to only one conclusion."

The doctor took out the sonic screwdriver and twirled it in his hand as he looked widely at the detective in amazed excitement. "Brilliant! Oh, look at him, Amy. He's clever."

"Not done yet." Sherlock dropped on him. "Time traveler. The watch on the boy's wrist is read out as 8:03am, when it is clearly 10:34pm in the evening. A hard study like him would have his clock set nearly five minutes ahead of the regular schedule, but his is not right at all. No student with a watch ever wears one that is wrong, unless there's a reason for it. Something sentimental, from a romantic. That 8:04am now, is five minutes ahead of the exact time of before that boy left his own time stream."

"Wow." Amy said, impressed. "I think you met your perfect match, Doctor."

John scrunched up his forehead in doubt. "Um, Sherlock... a wrist watch is not enough to claim such an unbelievable deduction."

Sherlock took one step back. "You want me to explain myself further, John? Fine."

"Oh now I've done it." John muttered.

"The back of the boy's shirt has a tag sticking out, 'made in Shan Shen'. There's no place on Earth named that. Now look at their shoes. All torn up from running, possibly non-stop for three days, according to the accumulated layers of wear and wrinkle. I notice dirt- no... planetary territorial dust displaced on the shoes of the alien, and wet spots on the lower cuffs on the boy's jeans and quickly rubbed off burn marks and ash on the girl's lower legs near the ragged socks with holes. What girl would be caught dead wearing that? John, they've just come back from running for their lives, and by the looks on their faces given to me right now... "

A pause held the air as Sherlock walked to each person in turn, putting his face in the personal space of everyone before pacing. "Girl came close to death, boy saved her and the stick-thin excuse for a man came up with a way out. John, I AM NEVER WRONG!"

"How... how'd he do that?" Rory stumbled over his own words.

"Everyone," the Doctor nearly giggled. "I give you Sherlock Holmes."

"God help his ego now..." John mumbled.


	2. Chapter 2: On the Case!

**Two Geniuses Meet**

* * *

_Chapter 2: On the Case!_

* * *

"Were you responsible for the missing persons two days ago?"

The Doctor perked up with sudden interest. "Missing persons? And two days ago... why would we be suspects?"

"Your blue box fell from the sky two nights ago." John explained. "The same night of their disappearance from this very church."

"Wait, didn't we just climb out of the TARDIS? Why doesn't it feel like two days?" Rory turns to ask the Doctor.

"Hmmm." The Doctor paced back and forth with a finger to his chin in hard processing thought. Suddenly he stopped and his face lit up like a child's. "It's a mystery. We're going to solve a mystery with Sherlock Holmes! Is this not brilliant?"

"Oh great." Sherlock muttered. "Now aliens are reading your blog, John. We've gotten ourself stuck with fans."

"Time travelers." Rory corrected. "From a parallel universe...however that works."

"Care to explain?" Sherlock pointed his comment at the Doctor.

"Take two stars, and make them orbit each other, so close together that they would be orbiting each other within the distance between earth and it's moon. The fields wrap within each other, and you end up with a magneticly-synced loop." The doctor enthusiastically wrung his hands together in a way that displayed his idea of magnetic fields. "It is so dense that the two magnetars appear to be one star from a distance, as the magnetic potential is generating probabalistic mass between the two of them. What happens right where the force-lines collide with the intensly-streched space-time of two stars orbiting each other at that distance is a rapid rip in space and time."

"Is he always like this?" John muttered quietly to Rory.

"Worse." Rory replied.

Amy held up her hand to stop the Doctor's techno-babble. "Basically, we were thrust into an infinite loop in space that popped us into a parallel universe."

"That's what I just said." The Doctor complained. "Wasn't anybody listening to me?"

"Just to let you all know," John spoke up, "Sherlock just figured out the other day that the Earth orbits the sun."

"John..." Sherlock warned.

"Well that's just a crime now, isn't it?" The Doctor erupted in childish enthusiasm. "We're going to have to remedy that."

"What, you mean you'll take them with us?" Amy said with disbelief. "What about their set timeline? Moriarty, the Dominatrix, aren't they supposed to follow that?"

"They will, once we drop them back off at the same time we took them."

Rory looked doubtfully at the Doctor. "Like when you told Amy you'd be back in five minutes?"

The Doctor took on a defensive expression. "The TARDIS was recalibrating after a crash."

Both Rory and Amy looked pointedly at the smoke rising from the police box.

"Okay you two, I get your point." The Doctor said, pouting like a child proven wrong.

"Did you follow what just happened, Sherlock?" John said. "'Cause I'm completely lost."

"TARDIS." Sherlock said clearly. "Most likely an anagram. What does it stand for?"

"Time and relative dimension in space." All three said at once.

"Yes, I followed it." Sherlock looked back at John. "Though I do have to ask, the Dominatrix?"

"Spoilers." Amy replied.

"Can we please get back to the problem at hand? Four missing people, ring a bell?" John insisted.

"Right! I say we take a look inside this church and see what we find." The Doctor said.

"Who put you in charge?" Sherlock muttered.

"Oh... that's right." The Doctor back-tracked. "Care to lead the way, detective?"

Sherlock made a half-hearted grunt of assertion and walked off towards the church, followed by John. Amy could have sworn she saw Holmes roll his eyes skyward in annoyance.

The Doctor didn't mind.

"Come along Ponds! Let's solve ourselves a mystery."

* * *

The church looked very beaten down on the outside. Moss invaded the roof and ivy took hold of the cement walls, climbing up about twenty feet to the top in a stretched out web. Stain glass windows were left unscathed, but hadn't been cleaned in over three months and it was starting to show. Cobwebs hung from window corners and a half-inch layer of dust rested on the window sills.

The large wooden doors were framed by large cemented warrior angels, their lower halves disappeared into the walls on either side. The warrior angels wielded swords and roman helmets. The sight of them made the travelers restless.

"Are they..." Amy spoke hesitantly.

"No." The Doctor reassured, but he didn't take his eyes off the angel's swords. "Weeping angels tend to not let themselves be built-in to church walls if they can help it. Otherwise they'd look as though they were trying to free themselves, instead of that pose of heroine warrior stature."

"Are you sure?" Rory pressed.

"No."

Amy walked alongside Rory a bit closer and grabbed his hand. Rory squeezed it reassuringly, despite being nervous himself.

"Are you three coming?" John said from inside, holding one of the front doors open. "Mind you hurry up? This door is heavy."

The three rushed inside. Leaving the warrior angels outside and out of mind.

Inside the church, old electrical lamp lighting illuminated the ceiling, which reached up to wide artistic wooden arcs intercepted up at a point in the center. Rows of wooden benches faced the front of the church where Sherlock and John were looking around.

"Found anything?" Amy asked.

"We found a trap door, but it turned out to be the priest's stash of scotch." John gestured at Sherlock, who had taken the liberty of downing the evidence.

"Ahh." Sherlock wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He shook his head and squared his eyes. "Now to get to work."

The Doctor started his own investigation, taking out his sonic screwdriver and pointing it around. The green light at the end of it buzzed and lit the walls, ceiling and benches. John squinted at the whirring device.

"What is that?" John asked, perturbed.

"Answer the man for me please, I am busy." Not looking up from his work, the Doctor continued sonic-ing the banister.

"It's a sonic screwdriver." Amy's loose hair flipped back at the turn of her head to face John.

"Sonic...screwdriver?" John repeated, confused. "Why screwdriver? Isn't it better to have a sonic laser or something?"

"_Don't diss the sonic!_" The Doctor called over.

"He loves his sonic...thing." Rory says. "Hey, do you smell that?"

"Smell what?" Amy inquired.

"Yuck, you can taste it more than smell it. Sorta metallic, like... pencil lead?" Rory said.

"That's short-range teleportation spacial residue. Sorry, Holmes, but this is my field of expertise." The Doctor put the screwdriver away. "The missing people were teleported out of the church, but why? No...who's teleport, wait...who can't enter a church?"

"Vampires?" Amy threw out.

"Demons?" Rory guessed.

"No no no. Older." The Doctor began pacing. "Two days passed since the TARDIS fell and then we scrambled out afterwards like overdue library books." He hit his forehead with his palms, trying to think faster. "Time...temporal...spacial teleportation..."

"Can one alien collect other alien technology?" Amy wondered.

"Yeah there is. Us." Rory muttered.

Amy threw a look at Rory.

"TEMPORAL PARADOX!" The outburst made both companions jump up with surprise. The doctor laughed at ran to them, excitement written all over his face. "That would explain the need for them to be transported out of the church, but Reapers don't use technology. Someone else is here. Another party is helping them, but why?"

"Do you know what happened to them?" John asked.

"Who?" The Doctor said, losing his train of thought. "Oh! The missing people. No, I don't. They were teleported using Sontaran technology, very hard to trace but not impossible."

"Could that alien you're thinking of make allies?" Amy said.

"Perhaps, why?" The Doctor turned around and froze.

"That's why." Amy swallowed.

The two stone warrior angels stood just inside the door of the church. One had its sword brandished at its side, the other reached out straight toward the people inside. Both angels had cemented legs, crumbed and misshapen from below the waist.

"Why are there statues at the door?" John asked, worried.

"Pay attention, Watson." Sherlock muttered. "Those are the same statues that were in the wall outside on each side of the front door."

"Weeping Angels..." The Doctor said monotonously. "Keep your eyes on them, don't blink, and don't look directly in their eyes. Damn, why does this always happen to us at night?"

The old lights above them started flickering.

"Rory, you go with John. Find us torches! Amy, keep looking at them. Don't take your eyes off them!"

"You want us two to look for other exits, don't you?" Sherlock said. He was already searching the podiums and back wall.

"How did you know." The Doctor joined him.

"It moved!" John yelled. "It wasn't snarling before, but now it is."

"Just keep looking for torches."

"Found them!" Rory said, holding up three flashlights. He threw one to the Doctor and the other he handed to Amy.

The lights flickered off for a full second, and when they were back on John let out a shout. Amy screamed.

One of the angels' swords was at her throat.


	3. Chapter 3: Angels and Reapers

**Two Geniuses ****Meet**

* * *

_Chapter 3: __Angels and Reapers_

* * *

"Amy!" Rory yelled.

"I'm fine." With hands trembling, Amy switched on the torch that Rory had handed to her and pointed it at the statue. Instead of looking at the snarling eyes, Amy didn't let her eyes off the cement sword tickling her neck. Taking a step back, she placed a good distance between the sword and her bare neck.

Rory joined her, keeping his torch trained on the other angel.

"Anytime now!" He sniped over his shoulder at the two men searching the walls and floor behind him.

"Oh do shut up." Sherlock muttered. "Ah! The exit is right here."

Sherlock slipped his hand into a groove in the floorboards and grasped them around a hidden handle. Lifting up, he pulled away a three foot square opening, revealing a ladder descending down into an underground tunnel.

"Okay, everyone into the tunnel!" The Doctor ordered. "Amy, I'll watch the angels while you run for the exit."

"Ok." Amy said, her voice a bit hoarse. She slowly backed up before turning around to run.

Sherlock threw John down the tunnel before going in himself. Amy followed, Rory backing her up and going next to last down the trap door.

The Doctor reached into his pocket and drew out a red flare, his eyes fixed on the angels. He had snatched it from the space ship they escaped earlier just in case something were to happen. Like weeping warrior angels with swords capable of decapitation. He sonic-ed the wick, and it came to life in an array of sparks. Red light poured from the device as he threw it at the angel's feet, the sparks catching on the wooden floor. The angels, not weeping and covering their eyes, had each other in view- causing them to stay frozen for the duration of the flare.

"Geronimo!" The Doctor said as he jumped down the trap door.

* * *

"The torches went out!" Darkness consumed the group, and the flashlights held by Rory, Amy and the Doctor all lost power.

"That'd be the angels feeding off the energy emitted from the light."

"Amy, are you alright?"

"I'm right next to you, you don't have to shout."

"Oh."

"Ouch! Who stepped on my foot?"

"Sorry. John, was it? Let me just get this out of my pocket..." The doctor pulled out a large ultra violet torch, and pounded it three times. It turned on, filling the tunnel with a brilliant blue light.

"You still have that thing?" Rory said. "Last time I saw that we were being chased by vampires in Venice."

"Vampires in Venice?" John said, astounded.

"Fish from space." Amy corrected.

"You pulled _that,_ out of your pocket." Sherlock said, more a statement than a question.

"That's Timelord technology. It's bigger on the inside." The Doctor said nonchalantly, moving around at random, seeing that everyone was okay.

"Where are we?" Amy wondered, her eyes straying up to look at the stone walls around them.

The walls were chiseled out of the ground, some stone, some earth with hanging roots. The tunnel stretched off into the dark; for how long, nobody knew.

"We're underneath the church." Rory said plainly.

"Explain. Now." Sherlock glared at the Doctor. "What were those statues? Why were they after us?"

The Doctor cleared his throat and straightened out his bow-tie. "Those two were Weeping Angels, aliens that have the perfect defense system. Whenever they are seen, their bodies turn to stone. When they are not seen, they move. They cover their eyes with their hands whenever they hunt in groups so they don't accidentally look at each other."

_"Hunt?"_ John repeated, not liking the sound of that. "What do they do to the people they catch?"

"When one is touched by an angel, they are sent back in time a century into the past. You live the rest of your life in that era, and they feed off the energy left behind: the time you would have lived in your own era becomes fuel for them."

"Is that what happened to the four people who went missing?" Rory inquired.

"No." The Doctor said. "They were teleported outside the church, but for what reason would angels need a teleportation beam? No, it wasn't the angels."

"Does it have any connection to why the TARDIS spit us out two days after we crashed, without us knowing?" Amy asked.

"It has everything to do with it." The Doctor's face became scary calm and serious. He focused soley his companions. "Whatever was out there had to have been pretty dangerous... for the TARDIS to keep us from seeing it."

* * *

The temperature rose inside the tunnels, like a toaster oven warming up wonder bread. The group had been walking for what seemed like forever when John spoke up.

"Who are you?" He stopped walking, his eyes and stance squared and untrusting. "You say you're an alien and not even one hour after we meet you, we find ourselves fighting_...monsters!_ You haven't even told us your name."

Everyone stopped to look back at John. The tall man turned around to answer him.

"Yes I did. I'm the Doctor."

John scowled. "Fine then. _What_ are you? Where did you all come from?"

The Doctor smiled sadly. "I'm a Timelord. I'm 907 years old and I'm the last of my kind. I come from the planet of Gallifrey, but I'm afraid it's gone now. I travel through space and time, with the whole entire universe as my backyard. First stop: everywhere. Does that satisfy all your questions?"

"Is it always this dangerous, being around you?" John was used to the danger. He'd been an army doctor stationed at Afghanistan. And being partners with Sherlock had its dangers too. He'd been tousled up, had a bomb attached to his jacket front and had his girlfriend nearly shish-kabobbed by a Chinese spear contraption. Long story, but the point is clear. John was used to danger... but aliens were another thing entirely.

All three time travelers answered his question at once: Rory and Amy saying 'yes', and the Doctor saying 'sometimes'.

"Why a bow-tie?" Sherlock asked. "It looks ridiculous. Especially with those suspenders. Makes you look like an idiot."

"It's not ridiculous! Bow-ties are cool." The Doctor fondly straightened out his red bow at his neck.

"I think I see the exit." Rory said.

The group rushed to the end of the tunnel, where the earth gave way to the slight odor of pencil-lead and smoke outside. Once they had all climbed out, they could see everything around them clear as day. It was all lit up by the flames of the burning down church a hundred meters behind them.

"Doctor, what did you do?" Amy accused.

"Eh... I might have left a lit red flare on the floor unattended. Just a _little_ thing to buy us time." The Doctor was interrupted by an explosion from the church's second floor. Flaming debris fell from the explosion to land ten meters away, the small fires threatening to light the dead trees around the graveyard. "Ok, a big thing."

"Doctor, I don't think that's the worst of our worries right now." Rory exclaimed. He pointed up, and several pairs of eyes followed his gesture to land on a phantom of nightmares.

"Reaper." The Doctor said.

The creature before them was big... bigger than the average car. A large black scythe gleamed at the end of its tail, slicing back and forth in the air. It's body had no shine, the onyx color drained away all light and shadow that could possibly shape it. Two wings stretched out behind it, the bat-like bones branched out from taut membranes, wrinkled and ancient.

The reaper clacked its mantis-like arms, and its blood red eyes gleamed ominously across the members of the group. The scarlet gaze landed on the Doctor.

"Reaper?" John choked out.

"Doctor, what is that?" Amy kept her voice calm, impressively preventing it from rising to a higher pitch from fear.

"That's the creature that can't enter a church." The Doctor backed away slowly, an action that was immediately followed by the rest of the group.

"So, let me get this clear." Rory mutter quietly as he backed away from the flying creature. "The only safe place we can hide from this creature is inside a church...which you burned down?"

"Yeah, today's not my best day." The Doctor shrugged, his eyes still glued to the reaper.

"Run." Sherlock ordered. Everyone unspokenly agreed, and moved their feet like bats out of hell.

The reaper cried out a loud declaration into the night sky, and behind it three more reapers materialized. Each one then began the thrilling hunt to capture their prey.

"What happens if they catch us?" Rory yelled back over his shoulder.

"Reapers are temporal predators. The ones they catch are erased from time. Never born... never existed! Only memories remain." The Doctor shouted back as he fiddled with his sonic screwdriver while running.

"Anything else we should know?" Sherlock growled, annoyed at the tall brunet man.

"Yeah. We created a temporal paradox... Ah-ha!" The Doctor cried out victoriously and pointed his reconfigured sonic screwdriver at one of the reapers closing in on them. Flustered and disoriented, it shrieked and in a flurry of wings it stumbled mid-flight away from the green light. "Sonic waves, higher than human hearing. Temporary solution- but good! Very good."

Two reapers flew out from the shadows to replace the one he deterred.

"Ohhh, no fair... Run!" The Doctor called out to the others, his hands fiddling with the sonic device.

"Did you just say 'paradox'?" Rory exclaimed in disbelief.

"Explain later. Run now." The Doctor replied as his screwdriver gave up on life, turning off with a depressing fizz.

They ran towards the graveyard, and up to the smoking TARDIS.

Amy dug her 'permanent drivers privilege' key into the lock and threw open the door... only to cry out in dismay.

"It's empty!"

"No-" Rory looked inside, his eyes taking in the bare inside walls of a regular police box.

"We're trapped." Amy threw the door shut with twice the force she used to pry it open. "We're stuck in a parallel universe, surrounded by flying creatures that want to erase us!"

Four reapers approached the four people- plus one Timelord- from all points of the compass.

_"Halt."_ A voice rose from the shadows behind the creatures.

The reapers stopped. Their blade-like arms lowering as they hovered at a stand still.

The Doctor's focus locked in on the voice in the darkness. He was intrigued... no entity other than time itself could control the reapers.

"_You are out of your depths, Doctor._" the voice sent vibrations through the air, plucking the sound waves around it like strings on a harp. It was impossible to tell if it was from a male or female. "_You have interfered with the laws of this world_."

"That's what I do best." The Doctor quipped.

"That Alien is speaking English. Why?" Sherlock asked Amy.

Amy answered quietly, "The TARDIS translates all languages for those who are involved."

"_With the reapers at my command, time is fixed. Your time machine will not work as long as they are here_." In the shadows, a figure slowly began to step forward. The first thing noticeable was the multi-hued green hair, as it danced in the air like smoke on the wind. Countless thin tendrils, constantly changing in length, caused a watery illusion as the hair moved on its own accord.

The rest of the voice's origin became visible, as the owner came fully out if the shadows.

Azure blue and rustic gold interlaced through tightly interlaced scales over a humanoid body structure. Larger scales of gold made up an armor covering the alien's chest, waist, fore-arms, and lower legs. On the large plate-like scales were carved glowing blue symbols. The feet had no need of covering, as they wore natural armor as claws.

Her face was more akin to that of a Silurian (Earth reptile)- now that it could be seen that it was a female from her figure and face-except for the eyes. What would have been whites was all red, and the only thing not red were the dilated pupils, slit as thin as needles.

Her scarlet red eyes snapped towards the Doctor and his companions.

"_You do not belong in this universe. Under the law of VM5201, written by those that protect the parallel balance, you must die_."


	4. Chapter 4: Seers of Mortalai

**Two Geniuses Meet**

_Chapter_ _4_: _Seers of Mortalai_

* * *

"Who says I 'must' die?" The Doctor asked the azure-gold alien woman, quoting with hand gestures as he swaggering forward.

_"Those that protect the parallel balance."_

"And that would be you?" Sherlock questioned.

"Sherlock. Hush now. I'm talking." The Doctor interrupted comically before turning his focused gaze upon the alien once more. "You make up the rules of parallel worlds. How?"

_"We are the_ Vizionari de Mortalai. _Protectors of the parallel balance."_

"The 'Seers of Mortalai'. From the planet of Mortalai then. 'Visionari'... That's Romanian. Why chose Romania?" The Doctor inquired, confusion written all over his face.

"_Romania is where our ship landed on Earth. Humans have so many fables. Dragons...fairies...mermaids. Using these tales of fantasy we can avoid human involvement, as witnesses are dismissed as madmen._" The female Seer said. _"Any more questions before you die?"_

"A very polite executioner, this one is!" The Doctor pointed to the Seer as he smiled at his companions.

That's when he noticed that one was missing.

"Where's Sherlock?" The Doctor asked.

Normally, Amy or Rory would answer back, or John would know what his partner was up to. But nothing is ever normal with the Doctor. Nor, apparently it seems, with Sherlock Holmes.

Because all three of them silently pointed at the TARDIS in answer.

The Doctor was affronted. "What is he doing to my girl? -Sorry, Um..."

_"Veera."_

"Sorry, Veera. Be right back." The Doctor stormed into his TARDIS.

And banged his head against Sherlock's. Oh right, it's smaller on the inside now. He shut the door anyways.

"What in the name of the Shadow Proclamation are you doing?"

"Doctor. Hush now. I'm thinking." Sherlock looked up from his work. In his hand were the wires from the inter-dimensional translator box, and in his other...a regular old screwdriver. "Mind giving me a little room? It's cramped enough as it is. Why don't you go back outside and talk with your alien buddies?"

"That's not an answer."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well I'm no 'Timelord', but I can tell from perspective that if you cross the translator box with the main module box on the center of the ceiling here, that will cause the data center to reboot. Unless you _want_ to stay in this timeline forever?"

The Doctor stood still for a moment, having trouble deciding wether to be perturbed by being out-thought, or amazed that he himself didn't think of that sooner. In the end he opted for being amazed. "Brilliant!"

"Now will you give me some room to work? This police box isn't meant for more than one, and your breath smells atrocious." Sherlock muttered honestly.

"Has anyone ever figured you out?" The Doctor asked.

"No."

"Then I'll be the first." The Doctor spun on his heel and threw open the exit door.

"Doctor that says pull to open."

"Yes, I know that!" The Doctor shouted back, hating to be reminded of that.

He faced the Seer once more, and threw his arms out in an open gesture. "Sorry 'bout that. Now where were we? Oh, my death. Well, sorry to break it to you but someone's already beaten you to it. Or will beat you to it, sorry Rory and Amy. I saw the data you were hiding on the monitor earlier. Good thing you don't know how to erase the monitor history."

Rory and Any paled in response, but stayed quiet.

Then the most unique sound in the universe rose high into the crisp night air. The sound of breaks left down on a running type 40 time machine.

"That would be my ride." The Doctor smiled at the Seer. "Nice to meet you Veera. But you know how things get. Places to go... people to go with."

To the surprise of everyone, the door opened to reveal a hand holding it open, and Sherlock's head sticking out of a bright room. "I believe your cabby is waiting, Doctor. ...Is it supposed to look like this?"

"_Run all you want, Doctor. Our reapers are everywhere. Anytime. Soon you will have to face the fact...that your time is up._"

"In you go." The Doctor pushed John inside, colliding him into Sherlock Holmes. The two stumbled back into the TARDIS, John's eyes wide and mouth gaping. Outside, the Doctor herded the rest of his companions inside. He turned for the last time towards Veera, giving his best grin.

"Time? I've got all the time in the world."

He shut the blue doors just as they began to vanish.

* * *

"Well?" The Doctor raised his arms in welcome, dancing around the self-repaired console. "What do you think?"

"It's another dimension implanted inside a closed-off sectionalized spacial holding area. " Sherlock said, not surprised.

"It's bigger on the inside." John summed up nicely. Leaning against one of the metal bar railings supporting the steel plated stairs, John looked up and around the TARDIS with a star gazed expression from where he stood by the entrance.

The interior glowed as though brand-new, the polished copper-alloy walls reflecting a rustic sunset color upon everything inside it.

As if it hadn't just been crashed landed and nearly torn to pieces by an magnetized infinite spacial loop... or whatever the Doctor had said.

Three curving staircases bent to intercept at different places around one side of the console platform. One going up, two going down. In between them sat a light brown, faded leather hide swivel chair.

John frowned. Odd place for a rotating chair, but he supposed even aliens needed a place to sit down. Now that John looked further, he saw no other seats in the large room. They must not do a lot of sitting then.

A fourth set of stairs retreated from the room in a straight incline at the opposite wall. Each stair was outlined with rod-like railings that framed clear glass barriers. The same glass covered the platform on which the main console stood.

With all the weight the glass was taking from the huge metal machine, John had to assume it was either the same kind used in airplane windows or...acquired from somewhere else.

Branching out underneath the paragon-shaped glass platform was a web of metal braces, randomly crossing and intersecting one another. It gave the entire platform a sense of 'mad-scientist', as though the main console itself wasn't doing a good enough job of projecting that.

Below the console platform looked to be a pale yellow marble-like floor, riddled with circular holes of varying sizes about two feet deep. It reminded him of swiss cheese, and he smiled from the strange amusement brought by the revelation.

Wires of countless colors and widths hung from the console in a massive chaos of knots, dangling below the platform like vines from trees. All of the wires and switches amassed inside the largest circular hole in the floor located right below the console.

Which was exactly where the Doctor was fiddling about, assessing the state of the TARDIS repairs. Amy and Rory had left, taking the winding stairs leading to the second floor. That left Sherlock, the Doctor, and himself.

Standing on the swiss-cheese floor, Sherlock whirled his attention on the timelord, his expression tight and his eyes a storming pavement grey, the brightness behind them teaming with inquiry.

"What's it like to have the whole universe at your fingertips? To go practically anywhere, future or past ...even outside this world? -How does it feel to be like God?" Sherlock said face-to-face to the Doctor. His eyes were as daring as an African spear, his envy poisonous on his tongue.

The Doctor looked up from where he had wires in one hand, and a black box with a string of cords running from one end of it the size of a fist. His olive brown eyes -the same color as his tweed jacket- seem to bore straight into Sherlock's fierce misty-pale green. He gradually stood up from where he was crouching and walked over to face the consultant detective. John was startled to see that Sherlock had the Doctor beat by two inches. The doctor smiled, and answered cooly, "Never boring."

"Alright, John. We're staying." Sherlock decided without a pause.

"Good, let's go home-"

"Aboard this ship, John." The detective stated with a roll of his eyes.

"Bu- why?" John asked as he blinked and shook his head as though ridding it of confusion -without success- looking back at Sherlock with his eyes wrinkled in disbelief.

"I'm bored... and it's about time I had a little bit of fun." Sherlock said, showing off one of his rare and more genuine smiles.

* * *

"Bunk beds?" Sherlock threw a hand toward the monstrosity in an annoyed gesture.

The Doctor looked almost wounded. "What do people have against bunk beds? They're cool! A bed...with a _ladder!"_

"Doctor, we're not kids." John tried to break it slowly to the 'cool' alien. "It'd be much appreciated if you could give us separate rooms."

The Doctor pouted and muttered, "Fine, have it your way. Ask the TARDIS what you want and she'll provide it for you."

"You speak as though the time machine's alive." Sherlock pointed out.

A gleam of mischief caught the Doctor's eye as he grinned. "Do I?"

With that puzzling and mysterious statement, he walked off towards the main chamber.

John and Sherlock looked back at the room and the bunk bed was gone.

"It's gone." John said, pointing at thin air. "It was... It just-"

"Yes John, a rather obvious but true observation." Sherlock cut him off. "Look outside in the hallway, see if the ship has another doorway we may have _missed."_

Experiencing a lightheaded-ness but preventing himself from falling into mild shock, John walked out into the reflective copper-walled hallway. He needn't have walked any further, for right across from the room they were in was another door with the name 'Dr. John Watson' placed at eye-level in a silver plate engraving. As though it was an office space instead of a bedroom.

John looked back and forth from one door to the other. Sure enough, the other door had the same label, with the name 'Sherlock Holmes' engraved across the silver plate.

Simply overwhelmed and deciding that either he was to accept the impossible or go insane, he chose to accept it. A childish range of infinite possibilities ran through his mind, and John smiled. He could have a room with a waterfall, or a bed made out of clouds. His floor could be covered in poppy flowers and grassy fields, with a placemat of moss.

Eager to get started on literally _making_ his room, John turned the door handle and pulled it open.

Behind it he found a waterfall flooding a grassy field, drowning poppy flowers and an insubstantial bed dematerializing into mist. The water overflowed out of the room, pouring through the door. His black leather shoes, instantly soaked, stood in front of a measly rectangle door mat of moss, now with some of its tiny green mossy tendrils being tugged away by the water.

John pushed the door closed, bracing his back up against it to hold back the current.

What had he done?

* * *

Sherlock sighed in relief as the door closed behind John, leaving him in his own empty room.

Grinning, he stretched out his interlaced knuckles, getting the blood flowing better for what he was about to do.

If a room could be made from imagination, then he was all for it. Sure. Why the heck not?

How about a _real_ mind palace?

Sherlock placed his hands at either side of his head and closed his eyes shut in concentration.

Bigger. Much bigger. One full acre.  
Dimensions: How about a circle perimeter of 36.728 meter circumference?

Wifi connections. Voice enacted database retrieval, with bio signature firewall coded to recognize only his voice.

Three floors: (Bottom up)  
-Library  
-Biological laboratory complete w/equipment  
-Computer storage compartment fit with past details, important quips, and memory base the size of his IQ.

Holograms programed to bring up data, maps, datelines and complete biographies once he wills it. Holograms on the walls that move and are effective like touch screens, freely mobile and programed to do what he wants them to.

Decor? Ugh. Default.

Sherlock opened his eyes and grinned with satisfaction. "Mind palace... you sexy thing."


	5. Chapter 5: Mind Palace

**Two Geniuses Meet**

_Chapter_ _Five: Mind Palace_

* * *

The main console room lights were dim, causing the faint shadows to elongate across the glass panels and copper walls.

Therefore it became a difficult task for clumsy Rory to walk the two full cups of coffee with spoons on a plate over to where his wife was sitting down on the platform, her lower legs hanging off the edge in deep thought.

No, no...difficult was Daleks in a dark night. Or dealing with a timey-wimey Doctor popping in and out of time with a vortex manipulator, carrying a mop and wearing a fez.

No, this was a piece of cake.

Rory sat down next to Amy with the successfully-in-one-piece tray of coffee.

"What are we going to do now?" Amy asked, picking up a cup of coffee without a word of thanks. Rory didn't need it though. She was sharing her thoughts with him, and that was enough for him to know she cared about him. Not to mention the ring around her finger. Rory held back a smile as he contemplated her question.

"At every point and time there are reapers waiting. On every planet, in every country. On every moon." Amy continued. "We're stuck in the TARDIS inside a parallel world with no way to get home."

"He'll find a way." Rory said. History of resentment towards the Doctor rustled in the dust of his mind but he pushed it back down. The Doctor had earned his respect, proving to be a reliable friend countless times. "He always does."

Speaking of which, the Doctor scrambled into the control room from upstairs, his face beaming with absolute glee.

"Just showed the two to their room...sss." The doctor slid down the railing and landed next to his two companions. "What do you think of them?"

"Of having Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson aboard the TARDIS?" Amy clarified.

"Mad." Rory muttered. "It's absolutely mad. Insane, really. You know those reapers are out there because of this? We've abducted the most brilliant mind of deduction that never existed! We know how his whole life turns up because we've seen episodes of their blasted television show, or read a book written by Conan Doyle."

"Rory-" Amy put her coffee down.

"We've interfered with their timeline." The Doctor agreed, his face regaining a mode of seriousness, and slight sadness. "Because they are a television show, their whole timeline is fixed. From the point where Sherlock and John meet up, to the final game... And I know we've taken our finger and smudged that timeline right down the middle."

Amy spoke up, "But where exactly did we end up on their timeline? Do you know?"

The doctor slapped the monitor, and it showed the coordinates. "Right between season one and two. Holmes has met Moriarty, but he has not met the Dominatrix."

"He mentioned that before." Rory remembered. "Amy was talking to you about his future saying two names: Moriarty and the Dominatrix. Sherlock zeroed in on what he didn't know, so that means..."

"...that Sherlock has already met Moriarty." Amy finished Rory's sentence.

"That episode had no _ending!_ Sherlock had his pistol pointing at the explosives, but we never hear the gun shot." The Doctor complained. "What a let down..."

He trailed off as the two companions stared at him in annoyance.

"If you had paid attention to the next episode, you would have seen that Moriarty got a phone call." Rory said. "Main priority: Getting us out of this alive. Come on, Doctor!"

"Fine. Here's what we do. We stay in the time vortex where the reapers can't trace us, and use our resources to find out as much as we can about these Seers of Mortalie. What is their strength? What is their weakness? How do they control the reapers? The angels?"

Rory and Amy nod, liking the sound of this plan.

"And what do we do after that?" Amy asked.

The Doctor tucked at his bow-tie, "Then we crash their party. How do you like Romania?"

* * *

Sherlock stepped forward and beheld the work of his mind.

After dozens of reworking, detailing and downloading... the mind palace was now a beautiful work in progress.

The first floor held all the books he ever read including articles, maps and newspaper columns. He had to add another half an acre just for the bottom floor alone in order to hold all that information. It was an impressive library, but not the largest in the world. He'd have to remedy that later.

Metal plated stairs hugged the wall to his left, leading up into the second floor. There the floors were white, tables and laboratory equipment, X-ray tables, morgue containment shelves in one side of the wall, and files of discovered chemicals used in his previous cases organized by place, date, and alphabetical elements. Give him a dead body and he could tell you how he/she died and how he/she lived by the simplest molecule of a blood cell.

Stairs, beginning one and a half meters in front of where the last ones ended, still hugged the wall...spiraling up to the third floor.

A computer system with Wifi-capability from anywhere in the universe stored all of his memory back ups from his mind. All there and ready for access. Previously Sherlock would have had to back track and shift through piles of stored memory in his head...until he found what he was looking for. Now he simply had to think of what he'd stored, even if he couldn't remember it specifically, and the computer would access the memory for him.

It was also voice activated. The computer had a firewall that he put up so the system only recognized his voice, and to anyone else that tried to access it the mainframe would return the questions with snide remarks about their appearance or low intellect.

Oh, and the motherboard of the system could talk. At first it tried using voices that Sherlock would find familiar, but after listening to the voice of Mrs. Hudson for five minutes he got too annoyed and had it randomize to another setting.

The next voice gave him shivers, but it was better than Anderson, Inspector Lestrange, or anyone else for that matter. He had named the response audio E.V.A.: Emanating Voice Audio. Still, listening to his mother's voice coming from a computer was rather...odd. Emotions are strange things. Things he tried really hard to detach himself from.

He did like the holograms though. It was interesting seeing what goes on in his mind outside in a physical form. With his program, the holograms switched from one thing to the next at his will, without any delay and at the same speed as his own thoughts.

"Sherlock!" John slammed the door open; his soaked shoes squelched at every step, his pants and arms soaked from holding the door shut. His drenched hair dribbled water drops onto his eyelashes, and he rubbed them away. But wiping a wet face with a wet sleeve didn't help matters.

"Oh I forgot to put in soundproof walls." Sherlock said to himself. "Thanks for the reminder, John."

"Sherlock-"

"Computer, will you insulate the walls from outside audible interferences, please?" Sherlock spoke out to his room.

**Mind Palace is now sound proofed.**

John jumped as a woman's voice came through the walls, emanating from thin air. He could almost laugh at Sherlock for making his room into a mind palace, if only it didn't completely overshadow his own abilities and humiliate him for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. That, and the whole ship was flooding.

"Sherlock..."

"Eva, insert an astrology tower into the third floor, separate from the storage compartments. I'll be needing to do a little research on outer-space." Sherlock added.

**New accessory acquired. Location: Third Floor. Title: Astrology Tower. Would you like an inter-dimensional hologram globe of the many galaxies?**

"Yes, that would help greatly. In each diagram on that hologram allow zoom-in capability on all solar systems and planets, with name of planet, dominant race, and population in a side column once any planet is selected."

**Request granted.**

"Also put a scull in the-"

"Sherlock!" John shouted, his anxiety getting the best of him. "There is a waterfall in my room and it's going to flood the whole ship if something isn't done to _fix it!"_

Sherlock finally looked at John. "Then why don't you fix it? You just tell it to take it all away and give you a bed and all your problems will be fixed."

John felt rather stupid. Here he was with a waterfall in his room, when Sherlock had a friggin Mind Palace!

The sight of it just blowed him away.

"Here." Sherlock sat in a swivel chair and held up his hand. Before it, a rectangular hologram much like a laptop monitor swept into existence. On it, John could see his room, in all its pitiful flooding glory. "Bloody hell, John. You didn't even specify what waterfall to put in? Looks like it defaulted to the Niagara Falls. Was that a poppy field?"

"Don't ask."

Using his fingers, Sherlock widened the screen. He picked up the hologram as though it were a suspended book, and turned it around for John to see. When he let go of the hologram it stayed in place, hovering in front of John.

"Go on. Give it a command." Sherlock motioned.

Hesitant, John leaned forward over the hologram and spoke to the image of his room. "Stop."

"You have to mean it, John. If you don't believe it will work, then it won't."

John squared his shoulders and spoke firmly the first words that came to mind. "Delete, waterfall!"

The water vanished. All of it. John stood stunned as the waterfall dispersed into slowly falling blue pixels, each one fading away into nothing.

"There. Now get out of my room." Sherlock scolded him, taking back his hologram. "I'd advise you to make yourself a wardrobe first, that way you can dry off and clean up that puddle you made on my floor."

John gaped at the tenacity, but what else would one expect from the highly functioning sociopath, Sherlock Holmes? Grudgingly, he walked out of the room, listening to the man talking to his new toy.

"As I said, I'll like a scull put up on the main shelf of the library..."

John closed the door shut and the voice was cut off. Huh, right. Soundproofed.

"What happened?"

For the second time that day, John started in surprise, turning to see Rory in the hallway before letting out a tiny breath.

"Just an out-of-control waterfall. Nothing special." John muttered.

"W-Waterfall?" Rory stumbled, putting up a hand to emphasize his next words, just to make sure he heard right. "You put...a waterfall...in your room?"

"Mhmm."

"Ha!" Rory grasped the hair on his head in a show of amazement. "That's- that's bloody ridiculous...why would you do that?"

"Maybe I just felt like it."

Rory calmed down and found that John was moping. He didn't show it, except for the crossed arms, and straight face trying to burn a hole in the wall.

"Want some help with your room?"

"Yes." John admitted without pause. "Yes, please."

Rory held back a laugh as he opened John's door. Soaked poppy fields and a moss doormat greeted him, and to one side was a floating spot of mist.

"You have quite the imagination." Rory complimented. "I would never have thought this stuff up."

"Thanks." John mumbled.

Rory helped John clear out the wilderness from the floor and the intangible cloud-bed. Once the room was normal and blank, John started again from scratch. He began by summoning a bed - Tempura-pedic standard single size- and placed it in the corner. By the wall facing the bed, he put a wooden wardrobe with clothes for every era including his own. Then a regular wooden desk for office space if needed.

"Tell me about yourself." John said. "Got to break the ice somehow."

"You heard Sherlock's deduction earlier. That's pretty much me." Rory looked for a place to sit, and John summoned a wooden stool. "Thanks."

"No problem. However," John sat in his own wooden stool. "He never said what fighting stance you were using."

"Oh, that." Rory rubbed his arms. "It's Roman, actually."

"Roman?"

"Yeah. I was a doctor, or studying to be one. Then I died. Then I was revived. Then I disappeared from existence. And then I became a plastic Roman Centurion with a gun in my hand. Long story."

"I was an army doctor in Afghanistan." John said. "If anyone at all can understand a story like that, it's me."

Nodding once, Rory slipped into his life story. He told him about meeting the Doctor, the capture of Prisoner Zero... seeing him make the Atraxi come back to Earth just to lecture them on threatening to burn a level 5 civilized planet. Becoming engaged...going on adventures. Dying in a dream shared by Amy and the Doctor...waking up to find himself alive. Meeting the Silurians, a race of lizard people from deep within Earth...protecting the Doctor by stepping in the way of Restac's blast. Then being swallowed by a crack in time and space, wiping him from all of existence. Only to wake up again as a plastic Roman Centurion with a gun in his hand. Then there was the confusing bit about there being a time paradox and that all not actually happening, but after Amy remembered the Doctor, Rory remembered his time as a Roman. Sadly, Rory had no 'handgun' to show for it.

Shaking his head, John tried to gather up his wits. "So, you died. Then you were a _Roman?"_

"I still don't get it myself. Told you it was a long story."

At this point John summoned tea.

Rory wanted to tell John more of his life, but stopped and let John have a turn.

John agreed, understanding that the boy had experienced the battlefield of space and time.

So he told him about the battlefield of Earth. Afghanistan during the war was dangerous, and full of running and gun shots. Being a doctor, he was still required to be on the field, attending to men inside mud-brick houses. He killed enemy men. He couldn't save several of his own soldiers. Then he himself got shot in the shoulder, and he paid for it with his leg. Therapy did nothing, and life became boring.

Until he met Sherlock Holmes.

John then continued animatedly about how that man was the most tenacious, egotistical, hyper-active sociopath in all of England. He could tell you your family relations just by looking at your mobile phone, but he didn't know the least bit of sentiment.

"You like him a lot." Rory observed.

John was about to object, but found no inquiry of deeper relations within that statement. No suggestions as to if he was gay, or if he and Sherlock were a pair. Just, 'you like him a lot.'

"Of course. He's my friend."

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**

**_Sorry for not giving this chapter as much flair and action. Next chapter will be exciting, to say the least. The plot is going to thicken and the wheels will turn...please review! Reviews do help, and thank you all for reading. I had no clue I'd get this many readers :)_**


	6. Chapter 6: Sentiment

**Two Geniuses ****Meet **  
_Chapter 6:Sentiment_

* * *

"How's everything go-" The Doctor opened the door to Sherlock's room and then froze.

Continuously improving upon itself, the floors had been changed to that of re-enforced glass held up by crossing metal braces. The same kind as the control room platform. Everything in the room could be seen from the first floor, and the height of the room continued to expand. To the right the Doctor noticed a razor-light projecting lift, able to teleport anyone to whichever floor they desired.

The number of floors had increased to seven.

For a twenty-first century genius with no academic knowledge of the universe, it was fantastic! In fact, as the Doctor noticed the computer module on the third floor, he would have compared it to the TARDIS herself. He couldn't wait to show Sherlock another planet. What that man would learn...

**Error: Location invalid.**

The doctor smiled at the voice coming through the walls. Sherlock conducted a time jump through the vortex when the TARDIS was immobile from reapers. And yet this man continues to surprise the Doctor.

A voice echoed above the pillars and glass. "Try it again. He said he came from there."

**Location invalid** **-** **Gallifrey is not a** **planet.**

The Doctor froze. _Gallifrey._ ...Sherlock was researching him. A whole cataclysm of emotions rose to the surface, but he was unable to detect what feeling was prominent. One thing was for certain, though. Sherlock was intruding into his past without asking.

"You lied, Doctor." Sherlock spoke loudly from his Astronomy Tower, where he sat before a large hologram depicting the universe. The hologram was spherical like a globe, engulfing the entire Third Floor. Stars glowed against the walls and glass ceiling, purple cosmoses blending with gold and green space matter in a beautiful spectacle. Sherlock sat in the middle of the illusion, his feet up and grazing the lounge chair's arm. The hologram had zoomed in on a handful of floating rocks in the constellation of Kasterborous.

The Doctor's face was stern as he stepped to his right to where the lift was. Taking out his screwdriver, he over-rode the code patterns so they would take him directly to the third floor.

Sherlock didn't even blink as the Doctor materialized before him. From one glance, Sherlock was disappointed. Fists clenched tight, showed the Doctor's repressed anger and disproval. Stiff shoulders meant that the alien was unsure of the situation. Thinly pressed lips showed a failed attempt at holding back words and hiding his emotions. The amount of sentiment radiating off the Doctor was just ridiculous. Sherlock didn't know what to expect from the Doctor, but it certainly wasn't this. He'd believed that the goofy act of his was just that...an act.

"You are remarkably human for an alien." Sherlock began. The doctor stood silently as the man made his point. "I can read the average person like a book. I expected you'd be different, but I was mistaken."

"You think emotion is a weakness." The Doctor detected, begrudgingly interested in the way this human's brain worked. "You don't feel. You've lost empathy. You think that feeling sorrow or grief is a bad thing."

"It's not a bad thing, Doctor." Sherlock corrected. The two were now standing up and facing one another, locked in a battle to uncover the way the other ticked, their weaknesses...their strengths. The Doctor had promised to figure him out. Now was the time to see if he could do it. "It's a characteristic of the losing side. Let just one emotion slip, and it can be taken advantage of."

"And so you lock them away?" The Doctor was internally astonished at such a mental philosophy. "Sherlock, I've lost my home planet. I've had to carry burdens on my shoulders that you could not imagine. Those are not weaknesses. Those can give a person strength."

"Oh, but you have a different weakness." Sherlock smirked. "Oh you try to hide it, but it is so very obvious. Why do you have two humans traveling with you? Surely they must slow you down at times, and they must be tedious to maintain and keep alive. Why travel with them? -Your greatest weakness is your loneliness. Traveling alone breaks your sentimental heart."

Sherlock waved a hand and with the help of a hologram, retrieved a data file from his memory. It was when the Doctor was confronting John in the underground tunnels. Then he pulled it up on audio and played it.

"I'm a Timelord. I'm 907 years old and I'm the last of my kind. I come from the planet of Gallifrey, but I'm afraid it's gone now. I travel thro-"

Sherlock turned the audio off and looked up at the Doctor. "You lied. I did a search of other Timelords, and  
found you're not the last."

"What?" Bewilderment. The doctor's expression betrayed him, showing his confusion...and then panic. "Where?"

Sherlock pulled the other Timelord up on his holographic radar, showing the same timeline they were in before...and the city of London.

"He's in this universe." The doctor began pacing. "Or is he a duplicate belonging to this world?"

"Who is he?" Sherlock asked, pulling back from his attacks for the self-benefit of useful information.

The Doctor turned to face Sherlock. The serious look on his face screaming of eminent danger. "He is my old friend, and my worst enemy."

* * *

The office was bright with the sun shining through the tall windows. The room was luxurious and made of high standards. The doors were made of dark polished oak, and there were half-cylinder Greek styled columns placed against the white walls.

Behind the office desk was a white stone hearth, carved out and displaying lions and intertwining stone grape vines in a royal manor. On the mantel were various books and volumes with leather bound covers, standing up in a neat row with bookends resembling tiny angels.

At the mahogany fitted office desk sat a man, calm in his black leather seat. It wouldn't be his for long...he wouldn't have any need for it. Climbing up the political ladder was always a fun past-time, but this time it was serious.

He had to find him. Find him and kill him.

The man's thoughts were interrupted as a man emerged seemingly from nowhere. Short black hair, and big round eyes sat still as a reflection over his stoic expression. His clothes were tailored, and his posture was casual.

"Guards, a pervert broke into my room." The man at the desk stood up with a haughty attitude, and a messier sense of humor.

"They won't be able to hear you...Mr. Saxon." The thin intruder assured.

Mr. Saxon leaned against the desk, his arms crossed in caution. His face lit up with his trademark smile at the interesting individual. "Who might you be? Well...besides the whole _trespasser_ thing. You're going to tell me how you did that."

"Maybe Later. You can call me Jim- I have noticed that you did not exsist before a few months ago. Mind telling me how you did that?" Jim grabbed hold of the seat opposite of Mr. Saxon and helped himself to the chair.

Mr. Saxon raised a brow and got back in his black leather thrown. He stared at Jim- this human who acted like a higher species. "Why does it interest you?"

"This is my turf. I am the hand behind the people here, and I don't like having control _wrested_ from me. Also," Jim spoke the next four words in staccato, his emphasis almost childish but proving his point. "You. Are. An. _Anomaly._ One which could be noticed by some rather...dangerous...people. I can help prevent that."

"...In what way would you be helping me?" The Master netted his hands together and leaned forward, his hands in front of his lips in concentration.

"Keeping you from being recognized as a _non-human."_ Jim made a fake surprised face at Mr. Saxon, as though pretending to be a nosy newspaper man finding out the truth. It was gone in a second, and indifference took over his expression once more. "And I can make your background story better. Your 'backers' were thorough, but not that thorough."

"I see that they didn't fool you." The Master said almost cheerfully. "When and how did you find out about me being...non-human?"

"That information will cost you." Jim took out his cell and started messing with it. A strong sense of curiosity came over Mr. Saxon, to know what other dark deals this man had a foot in. However, he restrained himself knowing that playing with powers took a great deal of caution. Jim continued talking, his eyes not bothering to look up at who he was addressing. "I am, however, more interested in why you are here. You have-over the course of a few months-set up a network of contacts, and have been systematically hunting for... _something._ The information you have been asking about has been too vague to allow me to find out what you are looking for, so I am asking 'directly'. What are you looking for?"

Mr. Saxon sat back in his chair. He allowed his eyes to wonder out the window; knowing his prey was out there somewhere.

"Dear Jim, ...can you help me find someone?"


	7. Chapter 7: Dracula's Castle

**Two Geniuses Meet**

_Chapter 7: Dracula's Castle_

* * *

"Here again," Amy read on the TARDIS control center monitor. "It reads: 'Eye witness experienced trauma and supposed hallucination after describing a blue and gold scaled fairy.' Sounds like our friendly welcome party."

"So the Seers of Mortalai, the blue lizard-like creatures, insert themselves into folk-lore? Why?" John asked from where he sat on the lone chair.

Rory spoke up, "Possibly a defensive strategy to keep them off human radar."

"There's very little about these aliens that we know of. I'm surprised the Doctor hasn't met them before. He usually knows everything." Amy said, walking away from the monitor to join the two.

"How do you think the Seers control other aliens?" Rory asks.

"How should I know?" Amy cursed under her breath. Searching through the records of earth, all they could find were references of blue and gold scaled fables. The three of them weren't getting anywhere, and it was beyond frustrating.

"There's one thing that doesn't make sense. Let's go poke it with a stick!" The doctor emerged from the top floor in a blur of tweed and brown.

Sherlock followed behind him, his face calculating and calm. "The only way to get rid of creatures that appear once time is messed with, is to fix whatever you've done to the time stream. Isn't that right...Doctor?"

"Yes! There's a case you and John need to do, but we can't promise you two will do the same actions as premeditated by this universe." The Doctor rushed around the control module pulling switches and turning nobs without pause. "Reapers, now...reapers are tricky. We've created a paradox by meeting these two. Anywhere we land, it will take -let's see- five minutes for them to make an appearance. I say that's plenty of time for us to cause trouble."

The doctor pushed down on one last lever and the TARDIS shook. Everyone clung onto the first thing they could grab a hold of, and lights blared all around them.

"Are we crashing?" John, who was flung from his chair, shouted to Amy as he clung desperately to a railing.

Amy held onto the console. She shouted back, "We're landing."

"There's a difference?" Rory quipped up from where he hung onto the ledge of the platform, his feet swinging in open air.

"Not really." Amy admitted.

The Doctor punched in coordinates as he talked, "Last reported witness in Romania, 1921, 45 degrees 30' 54" North, 25 degrees 22' 02" East. The most spectacular legend in history!"

With a resonating jolt the TARDIS landed, steam seeping out of the teal blue cylinder. The Doctor ran to the door and threw it open to reveal rolling green hills, blue sky, and a castle ten meters away.

"Welcome to Transylvania. That's Bran Castle in front of us, inspiration for the home of the _most_ nefarious supernatural being in human imagination." The doctor said as he ran outside, spun on his heals, and swung out his arms in welcome.

"What's Bran Castle?" Rory said in confusion.

John answered him, surprisingly. His voice was an octave higher from shock. "That's Dracula's Castle. We've...just ..."

"Moved through space, yeah." Amy pushed passed him to walk through the door.

"Five minutes everyone. Let's make some havoc!" The Doctor called out with glee as he raced towards the castle.

Bran Castle was the poster child of medieval Europe architecture. The pointed tower roofs practically glowed rustic red, the tiles topping the grey brick walls of the fortress like icing on a cake. Set inside the bowels of a vast forest with tall and demanding trees, just looking at it made them feel shoved into a fairytale.

"Gates made of iron! Wonderful!" The Doctor drew out his screwdriver and began buzzing the low cast iron gates that looked like they were meant for a private property entrance instead of a castle.

"Why is that 'wonderful'?" John questioned.

"Sonic screwdriver- doesn't work on wood." Rory explained.

The gates unlocked with a 'click' and the Doctor pushed the two iron doors open. The group continued forward into a stone courtyard with wooden wagons meant for tourism, and several shiny black model-T's parked in a corner.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Amy asked the Doctor.

"Anything dangerous."

Out of no-where, a bone-chilling scream struck the air like an anvil.

"See? That has my name written all over it." Taking off in that direction, the group stumbled across an underground tunnel covered by a fountain. The tunnel seemed to go on forever.

"Tunnels again? This is becoming a re-occurring theme." Sherlock waisted no time jumping down the secret stairway into the dark cold earth.

The doctor used his sonic to turn on a wooden torch hung up against the entrance wall. Holding it up, the Doctor descended with the rest falling behind, running and burning cobwebs and other obstacles away.

The tunnel reached fifty meters below the surface, the round stone ceiling arching above them like a sewer. Further screams and shouts echoed down the tunnel. The words mangled and mixed together were indecipherable as they bounced off the cold dank walls, deformed and unrecognizable.

They didn't have to run that far until they saw the object of the victim's fear. At the sight of it the torch was dropped and all at once forgotten.

The blue and gold scales glimmered off the reflecting walls, turning the whole scene an oceanic blue. On the ground lay a woman in a rich dress, unconscious. Glowing blue tendrils of gaseous light wrapped around Sherlock, the hair of the Seer entering his head as though walking through a wall. Sherlock's normally proud figure was now shivering and paralyzed.

"Sherlock!" John screamed and ran toward them. Rory had just enough time to grab John around the chest to hold him back. "SHERLOCK!"

It only took seconds. The Seer now aware of the intruders turned his head in their direction. Then a genuine smile creased the alien's face, his red eyes gleaming fiercely.

_I congratulate you, Doctor, for finding us. Such leadership and initiative deserve recognition._The alien spoke first before putting a hand gently on Sherlock's shoulder. The genius sighed, and gained a look much like the one the alien was wearing. "Here's your reward. Our specialty and strength is mind control. Are you satisfied...Doctor?"

A gasp ripped forth from Amy, and both Rory and John froze perfectly still, mouths gaping and eyes disbelieving.

The Doctor's expression held no rage. Nor did it hold any spite. When the Doctor became mad, it wasn't a hot anger. It was a cold anger he held deep inside that leaked only through his eyes like the center of a storm. That's what the Doctor felt now as he stepped forward to face this new enemy, the Seers.

"Let my friend go." The Doctor said with a scary calmness.

Sherlock laughed. "Friend? I have no friends, least of all you. Who would ever trust a man with no name? Why would anyone risk their lives to be with you? Every single one of your companions either have death wishes or the brain capacity of a _worm."_

"Sherlock, you can't mean that." John said, urgently trying to get through to his friend. "The Seer is controlling you, you have to break free of him Sherlock!"

The consulting detective's eyes focused on his partner, his eyes shining with malice. The seer spoke through the man one final time before disappearing. "This one is smart. Far more intelligent than any other human individual. This one is unfortunate to be so rational, as it makes controlling him so much easier."

The blue tendrils retreated, and the alien pressed a button on his wrist. The devise beeped once before the alien teleported away with an echoing 'pop'.

In the corner, the woman began to stir.

"Does that mean if he wasn't a genius, he'd be harder to control?" The Doctor pointed at the place where the alien disappeared. "What a polite executioner, giving away clues for us to solve the puzzle...oh wait, WAIT!"

The Doctor practically jumped up and down, an idea on the brink of his mind. He spun to face his companions. "Amy, what is it average minds have that geniuses don't?"

"Um..." Amy racked her brain to think of something. "Oh! Practical worries."

"Doubts, fears." Rory chipped in.

"Emotions!" John burst out. "Sherlock has no feelings or emotions!"

"You need to connect to his heart." All three of them jumped to find the woman standing, leaning against the wall. "Only your friend can break the spell he's in. He must use the strength of his heart to find liberty."

John laughed in cold despair. "He has no heart."

Sherlock turned to run, but Rory tackled him down before he could go any further. "Nope, sir genius you stay right where you are."

"We're going to have to make Sherlock think with his heart." The Doctor laughed and shook his head. "He'll see that as lowering himself down to human standards. Oh if this wasn't a crisis I'd be taking pictures."

The woman looked behind the group and screamed. The time travelers turned around to see a Reaper millimeters away from touching Rory.

Rory picked up the flaming torch at his feet and hit the reaper square in the face. It squealed in surprise and backed up. "I take it our five minutes are up."

"It's blocking the way we came in!" Amy cried out.

The woman called out from the other side of them. "Follow me everyone. I know where the corridor leads."

"Sorry Sherlock, but you'll thank me for this later." As Rory held the genius down, John punched Sherlock in the temple, knocking him unconscious.

With that they began running once more. Rory and John had to carry Sherlock, each taking a side and heaving him by the crook of his arms. The woman ran hand in hand with Amy. The doctor used the light of his sonic to lead the way, as they had lost the torch in the midst of the chaos.

The reapers' wings weren't hindered by the tightness of the tunnel, as their wings passed through solid objects like hands through a water's surface.

Whenever a reaper tried to block their way, the Doctor used his trusty sonic to paralyze them until the time travelers were safely passed it.

At the end of the tunnel, the light of day hit the small crown on the woman's head, hidden underneath her brown hair tied up in a bun. Pearls gleamed at her neck, and finally they noticed that her nice dress wasn't the only thing on her that was expensive.

Once the Doctor figured it out, he smiled. "Queen Marie!"

* * *

"Do I know you?" The queen asked.

"No." The Doctor changed his approach on the spot. "You most definitely do not know me."

"We don't have time for _idle chat!"_ John said, the strain of his words stretched tight as a string with urgency.

More reapers appeared around them. Over a dozen of the pitch black creatures swarmed out of the tunnel exit, and three more approached them from the forests.

Facing towards where he left his blue ride, the Doctor led everyone to a patch of ferns ten meters away from the castle gates.

"Aaagh!" Amy screamed as one of the black monstrosities grabbed her with its mantis-like claws.

The black temporal being opened its wings wide, the thin material flapping silently between bone ligaments. The sythe at the end of its tail swung to sit right beneath Amy's chin. Her blood went cold, knowing that once the blade touched her throat she'd no longer exist.

"AMY!" Rory abandoned Sherlock to John and ran full sprint at the reaper. "You leave her alone!"

A shot rang out like a backfired engine. Except more deadly. Amy looked up to see John holding a hand-gun out in a soldier's stance. The smell of gunpowder was fine and hard to place, but it was unmistakable.

The creature faded away like a mirage on a hot desert plain. Next thing she knew, Rory was there holding her shoulders, talking to her. Or at least, she thought he was. His mouth was moving, but no sound came out. In fact, now that she realized it, her whole world had gone silent save for a distinct high-pitched ringing. It was as though she was underwater, adding the side effect of ringing ears after walking out of an ACDC concert.

Rory got her to her feet. He was rushing her into the police box, where everyone was going over what just happened. By the looks of it, the Doctor was giving one heck of a lecture to John about why they don't use guns and how he could've hit Rory or Amy. The ringing buzz in her ears rose an octave and the sounds gradually started to return.

"Amy...Amy are you ok? Can you hear me?" Oh, Rory was to her left now. Amy turned her head to look at him.

"I'm fine now, thanks."

"Good, the shock is retreating." Rory murmured to himself. His nurse skills were on full alert from the danger his wife had been in. Her safety was the most important thing, and she was one second away from following his footsteps in no-longer-existing.

"Wait a tick..." The Doctor held up a hand for everyone in the room to stop talking. "There is someone here who shouldn't be."

All eyes turned to the queen. A woman who now took regality and placed it on a side-burner. A million questions swam beneath the depths of her eyes, and finally one won out over the rest.

"Who are you people?"


	8. Chapter 8: Tears for a Lost Friend

**Two Geniuses Meet**

_Chapter_ _8:_ _Tears for_ _a_ _Lost Friend_

**_Author's note: You can skip this bit if you want. Just wanted to apologize for the shorter chapter this time around, and I want to give a shout out to those people who send me wonderful reviews. Thank you so much! _**

* * *

For a man who always had a comeback line to become speechless was a rare sight to behold.

The Doctor looked antsy as he wrung his hands together nervously. Rory and Amy were in-between staring stunned and bursting with laughter. John was gawking with disbelief.

The queen of Romania was aboard the TARDIS. ...Queen Marie. The Doctor had met a lot of royalties before, even this one. But that was in a parallel universe. This one shouldn't even know he exists, let alone meet him.

"You're not staying." The Doctor said, pointing a hand at the queen.

"Who do you think I am? Show some respect for the crown and answer my question. Who are you?" The queen demanded.

"That's none of your concern, your majesty..." The Doctor said as he dashed around the control module, pounding buttons and flicking switches. The engine rolled and other sounds broke out into the room from the moving ship. Finally they were leaving the reaper-ridden forest and going back into the time vortex. "I'm sending you to your castle as of now. The reapers are already there waiting for us, so I expect we'll have a three second relief before they find the TARDIS. That's enough time to throw you out...gently of course."

"I'm not going anywhere." The queen crossed her arms as she put her foot down. "Not until I get some answers."

"Oh, I like her." Amy smiled. Rory face-palmed and let the hand slide down his face, pulling at his cheeks.

"Of course you would." He muttered.

"What? She's sassy."

"Oi! You two... the queen isn't staying." The Doctor called over to them. "John, stop ogling Queen Marie."

"Oh-uh..." John, snapped out of his reverie, stumbled over any words to defend himself with. Luckily, he didn't need to.

"John, put our dear friend in the medical bay. Rory knows where it is. Rory, go help him."

Hesitantly, Rory moved from Amy's side. He and John picked up the detective like before and carried him to the door. They had to shift positions to allow for them to carry Sherlock through the doorway, but after that their movements were less hindered.

"You need me, Doctor." The queen tried to reason out. "I've been controlled by the blue fairy, and lived to remember."

"Mnnnn.." The Doctor stared at the queen. "You remind me of Madam de Pompadour-"

"Who?" Amy blanched.

"Never mind that," the Doctor waved his previous statement away and turned back to face the queen. His childish countenance put up a little pouting fest before giving in. _"Fine..._ but after helping our friend you go straight back!"

The queen gave a smug smile in victory, "Now will you answer my questions?"

The Doctor turned on his heels to face Amy, his hands moving gestures in front of him."Amy, talk with her majesty. I have to check on our insane detective."

With that, the Doctor dashed away before Amy could protest.

"Did your captain just flee?" The queen inquired with astonishment, her eyes on the doorway the Doctor had exited through.

"Yup. He does that." Amy turned to the queen, who was much more intimidating now that the two were alone. "Wait wait wait... Captain?"

"Isn't that who he is?" The queen replied.

"We don't call him captain. He's the Doctor."

"Then if he's not in charge, who is?"

Amy tried to explain, "The Doctor flies the ship, and the rest of us follow. He's technically leader, but we don't call him captain."

The queen took a seat in the only chair in the room and laughed half-heartedly. "Look at me. I've been abducted into an alien ship, and I'm arguing about terms of rank. Of all the things to question!"

Amy walked over to lean against the control module in front of the queen. Looking back to make sure she didn't sit on any buttons. "It happens to the best of us. You know, before I really got to know the doctor, I grabbed the tie around his neck and locked it in the crack of a car door. We all deal with the shock differently."

The queen took it all in and rubbed her forehead, showing that it was all honestly overwhelming. "What were those black creatures?"

Amy explained the reapers. Large bat-like aliens with a scythe for a tail all in black. "They are like custodians to the timeline. They fix whatever doesn't belong so the universe can go back to normal."

"And those blue fairies?" The queen asked.

"They call themselves the Seers of Mortalai." Amy turned her nose up at the thought of the blue aliens. "They're new, so we don't know much about them."

"I do." The queen straightened out and stared straight at Amy. "I was filling out alliance agreements with our neighboring countries when I felt a strange intrusion in my mind. I suddenly processed information differently, reacted to ideas the way I never would have before, and my actions no longer were my own. It used my memories like a manual, and read my mind like a book before writing in its own revisions..."

"So you know what you did while being controlled?" Amy asked, intrigued.

"Yes." The queen said sadly. "It's World War I out there. I felt it when I saw the death count in the paper. Sorrow for the loss my kingdom was taking. I felt the tears run down my face, and then I knew it. The one crying was me and me alone. I had control again. I ran down to the secret passageways to escape the blue creature that had imprisoned me, when that young man happened across us. What he said still astounds me."

"What did he say?"

The queen scowled. "He said, 'Now why on _Earth_ would you need the royal family? They're a bunch of idiots.'"

Amy laughed. When she noticed the queen glaring, she withheld her mirth behind a fisted hand and cleared her throat. "That's Sherlock for you."

* * *

"Will you idiots keep your hands off me?" Sherlock growled at John and Rory.

The medical room was built with the same desktop theme as the main control room. Shelves lined one wall horizontally, but were absolutely empty. Cabinets yielded bandages, but little else. There was a sink, a mini fridge, and a couch next to one white sick bed where they had laid Sherlock, and tied his wrists together behind his back. Opposite the door, a window spanning the length of the wall itself looked out onto any landscape the viewers chose. Right now, it was set to a skyscraper's view of London at night.

"Nope. Now behave or I'll put you under." Rory said, holding up a syringe sort of threateningly.

John was at a loss of what to say. If he said anything, would Sherlock even hear him? Was it the alien staring at him with those familiar eyes? He had no idea.

Sherlock laughed. It was so unexpected, John jumped back from the white cot that Sherlock was tied to. "Look at you lot. Oh it's just hilarious. You have no idea what is happening inside me. Is it me even talking? Ha! Of course it is. John, you go through two girlfriends a month, but can't keep a single one. Your drunk sister knows women even better than you do. See? It's me in here. All of it."

"John don't listen to him, he's trying to trick you." Rory warned.

"Are you two really doctors? Honestly you have -at most- minor degrees in biology, and have treated uncountable patients. Yet you have no clue what to do with me!" Sherlock's laughter cut short and his face became stoic and calm. "John, let me out _now."_

"No." John shook his head. "I don't answer to anyone but the real Sherlock. ...You're not him."

"What do you get when you cross hydrogen fluoride with antimony pentaflouride?" Sherlock asked.

"You're not Sherlock! Stop pretending to be!" John shouted at the man.

"You get an exothermic superacid called Fluoroantimonic acid. Has extremely corrosive properties." Sherlock gave a smile that John had never seen before. It was almost...cruel. "Why do you think I have a laboratory in my room, John?"

The moment John noticed what Sherlock meant, it was too late. Sherlock had already snaked his tied hands into his pocket and poured the acid onto the rope.

Rory cried out and tried to stop him, but Sherlock, free of his bonds, doused the boy's outstretched hands in the acid before jumping off the medical bed. The smell of burning flesh and rope assaulted John's nose, but he ignored the screams and gore. He had to stop his friend.

John pulled out his gun and pulled back the safety with a solid 'click'. Barrel to target he stared Sherlock down through the cross-section of the pointer.

Sherlock looked back at the noise and saw John holding up his gun. He shook his head. "You disappoint me, John. We both know you could never shoot me."

And with that, the man walked out the door.

John put down his gun and ran to Rory. His hands were badly burned, but he was taking it rather well. Rory had already cleared the left-over acid residue, and was identifying any major damage.

The palmar muscles had been eaten away, showing huge gashes that bled a dirty purple and rich red. Rory, unable to do much with his hands anyway, allowed John to take over the treatment. The rows of shelves on the wall were now conveniently filled with salves for burns from ever corner of the universe.

The world around John became hard to see. The image of destroyed tissues and nerves from the chemical burn blurred in front of him, unable to stay still.

Why did Sherlock do this? He deliberately burned Rory's hands, but what if his hands became unusable? It was Sherlock's fault.

_You disappoint me, John._

"Hey, are you alright?" Rory asked him, concern apparent in his voice.

"I'm fine." John wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and froze when it came away wet. Tears. They just came out of nowhere.

He was crying.

* * *

_Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him._

The master shook his head. The drums never stopped. They were persistent as ever, and they called to war.

The headache returned and he clutched his hand in a tight fist. "I have to lure him in. Change history, upset the balance of the universe. Then he'll come."

The other side of the phone line crackled as the voice on the other end spoke. "Then run for Prime Minister. Use your resources to take down the man who is government. There's someone special I know who would be thrilled to see his brother begging for his help."

"Who's our target?" The master asked through the phone.

"Mycroft Holmes."


	9. Chapter 9: Sociopath

**Two Geniuses Meet**

_Chapter_ _9:_ _Sociopath_

**_Disclaimer: Computer code is curtesy of Wikipedia. Sorry, I'm not smart enough to hack with a Trojan virus. Enjoy!_**

* * *

"Mr. Holmes sir, a competing figure has been announced for the coming elections." The girl who looked to be tweeting on her phone stated from the back of the black taxi. Mycroft knew better; he picked her for her network skills, and fast pace at which she gathered information. Her black hair was styled back and her care-free attitude was enough to confuse most of his contacts.

"Oh? Who is it?"

The girl scrounged up her nose at the picture sent to her from an outside source. "Mr. Saxon. At least, that's what he calls himself. A week ago I looked him up and it seemed like he didn't have any stable background history. He was missing dental records, parental references, small things that looked like a hastily put-together identity. Now, he has everything. Baby pictures, parents, high school diploma, all of it."

"You seem to be more talkative that usual. How come?" Mycroft, sitting one row ahead of her, looked at her cooly through the taxi's middle review mirror.

"He'd up to something. I have a feeling if he's after your position, he could be dangerous. We should take precautions."

"...I agree. Have the men keep an eye on this Mr. Saxon. And tell them to watch out for interference. Mr. Saxon might have some men if his own."

The girl's thumbs were moving across the keys even as her employer was speaking. "Already done, sir."

Mycroft let his fingers slide over his black umbrella sitting at his side against the car door. Opening his smart-phone he recieved the picture message. A rather young man with smooth, dirty blonde hair and a grin that spoke 'insanity', but not lacking a certain charm which the media would just eat up.

A new player. Mycroft smirked, and put his phone back in his pocket. He had no idewe what he was up against. You champain against Mycroft...you go to war.

* * *

Sherlock stormed down the corridor, his body acting against his will.

_God damn it, John. You should have at least shot me in the leg! Immobilizing the being that controls me so I'd no longer be of use to it. Why didn't you think of that? _

He felt the alien presence in his mind, pulling at his brain stems like a puppeteer. He was going to kill the Doctor. _With what you moron?_

The alien controlling him stopped...as though realizing it had no weapon. He had used all the acid earlier on Rory to escape and tossed the vile aside.

_Stupid boy, why did you have to get in my way?_ _It's your fault you got burned._ Sherlock stubbornly thought... pushing aside the symptoms of regret.

Sentiment was a weakness after all. Or so he thought. Not the tables had turned, and from what he heard in the secret underground corridor back at the castle he would need sentiment. Ugh, Sherlock wanted to shot something. Perhaps a wall with a paper print out of a blue alien taped to it.

Sherlock felt himself moving again, and watched as he entered his Mind Palace. He then felt the change of mind of his captor. Information was a mighty temptation, and this Seer wanted to know about the Doctor.

_"Know your enemy."_ The alien thought that was not his own echoed in his head.

He stepped onto the teleport pad to the right of the door, and flashed to the third floor. The Data Center.

Sherlock felt the creature as it pried into his internal memories, finding out how this room worked. Sherlock tried to block his mind from the Seer, but it was a useless effort. Sherlock gasped in realization as the alien found the memories on how to build a virus.

He was going to insert a virus into the TARDIS core, sending all the information of the universe to the Mind Palace.

_No, you fool! Not even_ _I __am capable of holding that much information._ _I_ _deleted trigonometry from my memory for that very reason!_

The Seer in him didn't listen. It used his body to communicate.

"Eva, do you still obey my commands?" Sherlock spoke.

**Yes. What can I** **do for you?**

"Very poor firewall, Sherlock. With just your voice, it granted me access. Anyone can get in that way." Sherlock hated the way this alien used his own mouth to lecture him.

_I__'__ll make sure to install the proper updates later._

The Seer ignored him and addressed the computer keys in front of him. Sherlock felt his mind burn from the nosy fingers plucking through his memories.

Sherlock's hands began moving at blurring speeds, constructing the most perfect virus the world had ever seen.

The TARDIS was built with the highest alien technology with intrusion detection systems unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The Seer was used to such technology though, and with all his control stripped away, Sherlock disguised the virus with the Trojan horse method, encrypting it so it was virtually undetectable. Inside the code, a decryption method would activate once inside the TARDIS data core.

virus encrypted code

Decryption_Code:  
C = C + 1  
A = Encrypted  
Loop:  
B = *A  
C = 3214 * A  
B = B XOR CryptoKey  
*A = B  
C = 1  
C = A + B  
A = A + 1  
GOTO Loop IF NOT A = Decryption_Code  
C = C^2  
GOTO Encrypted  
CryptoKey:  
give_me_data

He was in. All the data in the world at his command. He walked over to the Astronomy Tower's hologram projector.

"Show me Gallifrey."

A large, sunset orange planet appeared in the room, twice the size of the hologram of earth that he'd seen before.

Then it showed him silver trees, glowing like fire when the one of the two binary suns lit them from over the horizon. Sherlock saw burning orange skies, shining mountains and a great citadel cast inside a glass dome, the light of the sun reflecting off it in golden hues. Sherlock had to admit it was beautiful.

"Show me the Timelords."

Hundreds upon thousands of faces flashed inside his mind, each one with nine or more faces from regeneration and Sherlock felt the strain of the amassing information.

_Specify, you moron! Say, 'Show me the mainfuntion of a Timelord', or 'What primarily caused their demise?' You make it too general, and it pops up with twenty hundred results like a google search engine._

Somewhere in his mind, from what he could tell, the only reason his brain was still functioning was due to the data being packaged and sent somewhere telepathically from the Seer. He could feel it. The information was leaving as soon as he received it, like a leak in a government security building.

He heard the doors on the first floor open as he registered the greed in the Seer's foreign mind. Not of him own accord, Sherlock raised his arms up in a welcoming stance and said, "Show me _everything."_

"No!" The Doctor cried out, but it was too late.

Lightning bolts hit Sherlock's outstretched hands like a tesla coil. 'Pain' wasn't even close to describing it. The flooding waves of data burned him like fire coursing through his veins. Every muscle and nerve in his brain was on fire. His eyes felt like they were melting. The whole universe was pouring into his head.

"Ahhhhg!" Sherlock screamed, and it took him all of three agonizing seconds to realize it was him screaming, not the Seer. The telekinetic connection grew into a full-on bridge, sending all the data to another place at the same time it was received.

Flashes of information caught Sherlock's eyes. Moriarty talking to a blonde politic... John crying silent tears... Mycroft confronting the same blonde man. Mycroft loosing.

"...Stop..." Sherlock struggled with control over the Seer. The information channeling was wearing the Seer's mind rather thin, allowing Sherlock an advantage.

_If ever there was a time for me to feel emotions, no matter how trivial, now would be a great time. _Sherlock looked over the images and felt nothing.

Well, there was something. But it wasn't exactly emotional.

Sherlock's brother was being taken down. He could _see_ it. All the links led to Moriarty, the spider in its web of criminal networks. He was a challenge, a chase, a problem to solve, to show that he exists and can best others. Something to keep Sherlock from the monotony of human society.

And out of the agony, Sherlock felt 'thrill'.

_"Stop it, mundane!"_ the Seer said inside him. The projection of its vast and foreign mind drowned Sherlock's thoughts from the harsh volume.

_Why should_ _I? I am Sherlock Holmes. High functioning sociopath. A sociopath may lack empathy and emotions, but you are missing what sociopaths crave most. ... A challenge._ Sherlock imagined sneering at the Seer, showing off his point and winning once again. _You made your first mistake when you hurt John. Your second was letting me see Moriarty. ...Your last is your own selfish greed, stretching your mind to withstand the massive influx of information. That allowed for the slightest bit of emotion to overthrow you. And let me tell you, you should see me when I'm excited._

The foreign mind screamed, fleeing in frustration and spewing curses that didn't translate to English. A far off buzzing sound alerted Sherlock to reality once more. His eyes were shut and tight with pain. He felt the ground beneath him pressing against his back, and in small tones he heard the Doctor talking to him.

"Shut...up..." Sherlock pried his eyes open and held still as the sights around him were blurry beyond reason.

"You're alive! Wait...no sign of trying to kill me- you're back!" The Doctor threw his arms up in glee.

"Don't celebrate yet, Doctor." Sherlock muttered through his teeth, which were sore from clenching through the painful process. They had other things to worry about. "Moriarty has helped appoint a new Prime Minister. Mycroft is in danger too. I might want to drop in on him just to laugh in his face."

"Time machine. We can get there any time, and take all the time we need! Unless the thermo-cupling decides to go bang, we have enough time to get you back to your aggravatingly sarcastic self." The Doctor helped Sherlock up, supporting his weight.

"The boy you travel with will need care first. I burned his hands off with acid."

"What!?"

With that, the Doctor dropped Sherlock and ran through the door; leaving Sherlock alone and in pain.

He leaned against the wall and tilted his head back. Figures. He didn't have friends.

He only had one.

* * *

Where was she?

Her long cascading curly locks fell back as she tried to get a look at her surroundings. The world began to tip and she had to bend her head and shoulders down again. She blinked away the effects of the spacial displacement. One thing came back to her, more important and urgent than anything else.

She had to tell the Doctor.

_He has to know_. She paused, and tried to take in her surroundings once more. She was standing on the steps to a flat. A very expensive flat. Judging by the cars parked on the side of the street facing it, it was the early 21st century. Falling through the portal, it must have landed her where the history's pivotal focus was at the time and date.

So why was history interested in a flat?

A security camera made a slight whirring noise as it turned, getting the woman's attention. She took out an alien device from her pocket, the same one from what she read the words 'GERONIMO' from only two days ago. Pressing a switch, the woman pointed the devise at the camera while the camera couldn't see her. There was a faint fizz, and a small cloud of smoke rose from the camera wiring. Luckily, no alarms. Smiling, the dirty-blonde haired woman cautiously placed her hand on the holster at her hip. She pulled out a pair of lock-picks from where she hid them in the leather bound stitching.

Looking out for authorities, she walked up to the front door and stuck a thin needle into the bottom of the keyhole, and allowed the second pin to insert through the gears above it. Moving the second pin calculatingly, she was rewarded with the click of an open lock within five seconds.

Inside, she heard the sound of a woman speaking on her phone. The blond hid quietly behind a wall to listen in.

"No I'm not going to use it to gain money off of the government. No, not for blackmail either. It's something you're quite familiar with, Jim. A 'power play'."

The woman smiled. She was impressed. This chick had the government by the ropes! Which begged the question... who would a powerful woman like her be talking to?

And who in the bloody hell was she?


	10. Chapter 10: Persuasion

**Two Geniuses Meet**

_Chapter_ _10: Persuasion_

**_Author's Note - I've decided to change the way I referred to the villains. Jim will in the next scene be referred to as 'Moriarty' (when not referred to by the Master). And when not addressed by a human, Mr. Saxon will be referred to as 'the Master'. Sorry if this causes any confusion. _**

* * *

The large open room was cool and dim. Only small rays of sun peeked through the curtains covering the windows on one of the longer walls of the room, opposite a pair of tall mahogany doors. Sitting comfortably on jade green couches with patterned square pillows were the two nefarious villains, both having cups of tea.

The heavy doors swung open as one of Moriarty's men came in, bowing and apologizing for interrupting. He gave them some interesting news.

"Sir, we apprehended Mycroft's spies. They've been following Mr. Saxon for two weeks."

Moriarty nodded. "Thanks Tom. Bring them in."

The large man with brown hair and dark skin known as Tom went back to the door and opened it. Through it he made a 'forward' gesture with one hand, and then returned to his previous post. The door slammed open, and ten armed men in black cargo uniforms came in, holding captive six blindfolded spies at gun point. The blindfolds weren't measly thin strips of black cloth. No, the spies had large brown bags over their heads, like criminals being lead to a hangman's post. The six souls were forced to their knees, facing the two leaders; their hands cuffed behind their backs.

The tension in the room was like a knife twisting torturously through the silence that enveloped the atmosphere.

"What will you have us do with them, sir?" One of the armed and uniformed men stepped forward to ask.

Moriarty reclined in his couch, gently tapping his tea cup in boredom. "Mr. Tom...how many men are needed to deliver a message?"

"One, sir."

Moriarty looked at the small group. "I know you spies can hear me. You have two choices- agree to serve under me, or get shot. Anyone who wants to volunteer, please make yourselves known."

Silence stayed the room for about eight seconds before one blindfolded person spoke up with a firm voice.

"I'll volunteer."

The Master grunted softly. "There's always _one_."

Moriarty smiled a crooked grin that lit up his eyes with joy-gilded malice. "_Great!_ Tom, would you be so kind as to pick one of the others and shoot them?"

Tom pulled out his caliber gun equipped with a silencer, and started pacing in front of the spies. He stopped in front of the third spy from the right. The spy that kneeled to the left of the one that Tom chose, thought he had not been picked and he breathed a sigh of relief. Tom -for pure amusement- then went and shot the one to the left of him through the face, that one breath of relief being his last. The spy that Tom stopped in front of flinched, and then wondered why he was still alive.

The Master cracked a winning smile at the ex-sergent's enthusiasm; Tom made great entertainment when he was up for it.

Blood and gore seeped onto the hardwood floor; deep, dark scarlet pooling and staining the clothes touching the ground of those spies nearest to the deadman.

"Alright. Now that one of you is _dead_, only four of you are currently slated for execution. ...Anyone else willing to talk?" Moriarty through up his hands in a questioning gesture. After a few seconds he returned to his cup of tea and brought it close to his lips. His next words were calm and soft, "I can bring in someone who can encourage you, if you prefer."

As expected, the only response he got was terrified silence.

"Oh come _ON_! I haven't got all day!" Moriarty slammed his cup hard on the table and then turned to face his partner. "Mr. Saxon, is your friend ready?"

"Ready and waiting." The Master replied, swinging his feet up onto the table between the jade seating arrangement. A presence seemed to permeate the room with a heavy tone. The ten armed men shifted nervously on their feet.

"Alright, Mr. Spy. Take the room off to the left for your final destination. I would like to keep this room clean." Moriarty gestured to the secondary room off to the side.

The volunteer hesitated, confused... then started walking after one of the armed men kindly escorted him out with the mussel of his gun. The door shut closed behind him with a decided click.

"Mr. Saxon, would you and your etheric friend persuade him to work for us? Make sure he can't betray us." Moriarty smiled as if asking a favor. The smile was meant in its own way to look domestic, but it held a creepy side to it.

The Master stood up and walked towards the side room. He closed the door behind him before a silhouette of blue light shown from the crack beneath the door.

Jim returned to sipping his tea. "Tom, would be so kind as to offer some 'incentive' to the other spies, to talk? Our friend prefers to work one-on-one, and she may not have enough time for you all..."

Tom grinned. He reached into his jacket to pull out a knife. He walked over to the youngest blindfolded spy and crouched down in front of him, twiddling the knife expertly in his hand.

"You have a family?" Tom asked.

"..."

"Fancy a girl back home?"

"..."

Tom took his knife and stabbed it in the fleshier part of the young man's lower leg, straight vertically to miss most of the important muscles AND cause the most pain. The poor boy screamed out in agony.

"You see, it's rude not to answer back when someone asks a question." Tom smacked his teeth slightly, one of his habits he never got rid of. "Lets try again. Any family?"

"No." The young man said through gripped teeth, holding back the throbbing discomfort and waves of pain.

"Girl ya fancy?"

"No."

"Okay then...What about those three? Are they like family to you?" Here, Tom ripped off the brown bag from the boy's head, revealing cold and fierce green eyes complimenting fine, copper colored hair.

The young man stayed quiet.

"Talk to me boy." Tom waved his knife warningly.

"No!" The boy answered a bit too quickly. "I only work for the money."

"I see. So you won't mind of I...say, cut one of their ears off, a tongue maybe?" Tom walked over to one of the other men on the ground, and the boy momentarily tried to struggle ago stop him, but was held back by one of Moriarty's armed men.

Moriarty chipped in, "I would recommend the ear- it has no major arteries, and doesn't cause much damage...other than the psychological, of course."

Outside the room screams could be heard, and the Master rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. His business partner knew that the blue alien now standing next to him had no trouble 'persuading' three or four average people at once. All it would take is at most twenty seconds. The human just wanted to sate his insatiable boredom with his little mind games.

The Master didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed listening to the sounds of torture coming from the neighboring room almost as much as Jim liked Mozart.

However, a nagging feeling forced its way up into the Master's head. He turned to face the blue and gold 'Seer', and watched as the tendrils of hair retreated from the coward's mind. The man relaxed, and saluted the Master...not even remembering seeing the blue creature. The Master dismissed the man and pulled out a metal box from one of the shelves in the room. A present from the Seers: nano genes. Once the spies were done being tortured, their minds would be converted to work for them, and all their dismembered limbs would be patched back together with the golden little lights of nano genes, as though the wounds never happened. Not remembering anything, they would go back to their precious Mycroft and report everything back to Jim and the Master. Memory manipulation was a useful tool, but it was risky.

The nagging pulled at him again. The drums...telling him to kill the doctor. They were waisting time with this little charade. Brainwash the brainless spies already! The sooner their plan moved along, the sooner the Master would see the Doctor.

The Master headed back towards the office - not noticing the small tendril of blue hair fall behind him from his neck.

* * *

"Bored."

John heard the word and shot a look at Sherlock. "No. No you are not going to tell me you climbed into a spaceship that travels through time and space only to be-"

"BORED!" Sherlock jumped out of his chair and shot a laser gun at the titanium-plated shooting range on Floor number 12 of his Mind Palace. On each plate were orange, spray-painted smiley faces.

John stumbled and knit his eyebrows in a calm but confused expression. "Those faces are orange. Why aren't they yellow?"

"Already did yellow. Needed some change."

John's mind snapped back to sanity, and he rang up a more sensible question, "Where did you get _spray paint_?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm BORED!" Sherlock swung his arms out in a small spin, ending the pose facing John. Raising his hands, he swaggered right on in to his rant. "Everything, John, is outside this ship's front door. Everything! Because of those damn _Reapers_ we can't visit any of them! We can't even go back to London."

A small voice came in from the first floor entrance. "Coming in..."

After opening the door, Rory stopped and gawked at his surroundings. Behind him, Amy pushed forward to get passed Rory only to be stuck in the same spell-bound awe.

"Out. All of you out of my Mind Palace." Sherlock muttered, waving a hand at the two downstairs in annoyance. They were too far down to hear, but John shot him a look.

"Sherlock, you're going to have to learn to let people in one of these days."

"Why should I?" Sherlock responded rather quickly and absolute.

"Hello up there!" Amy called up from below. "We just came to let you both know that Rory's hands are back to normal. Apparently the TARDIS has something called 'nano bots' or something that cure any physical injuries."

John walked over to the twelfth floor balcony, placed his hands on the copper bars framed with glass and looked over at the two companions. "That's great news! Did you guys find anything on how to get the Reapers off our backs?"

"No, but the Doctor has an idea." Amy shouted up at them. "Come down to the control room!"

"Finally!" Sherlock blurted. "The mad man in a box has a plan. Let's hope it doesn't end like the last one."

"Always the pessimist." John sighed.

* * *

Everyone stood around the control room. Rory leaned against a railing, Amy sat in the lone chair with her feet up against the console, and John and Sherlock stood facing the Doctor, who was buzzing around the buttons and switches like usual.

"The Reapers are under control of the Seers. They won't attack you two, as you belong in this world." The Doctor said, pulling out his sonic screwdriver. Taking out three thin metal bracelets, he buzzed the tops of them with the sonic. "These are bio dampers. Haven't used them in years! Amy, Rory, put these on. It will confuse the Reapers for a period of time."

"How long?" Rory asked.

"No idea. Lets hope very long." The Doctor put on the third bio damper on his left wrist. "Bangles...could be cooler."

"So is that your plan? Jump around wearing tacky trinkets hoping the Reapers don't find us?" John asked.

"Why not? We'll drop you two off when we found you at your flat. 221B Baker Street, right?" The Doctor pulled a lever.

"Should I be disturbed that you know where we live?" John wondered.

Amy whooped in joy. "At last! London, here we come!"


End file.
